


Promises

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: Hawke tells Fenris they're going to help the Inquisition. Alone.





	Promises

Hawke tells Fenris everything. He knows, by now, before they have to speak. In most times, it almost feels like words are unnecessary.

The choice to help the Inquisition is not unexpected. Unfortunately, it is also not well received.

“You’re not going.” Hawke says. They set their jaw, straighten their back, and fold their arms over their chest. Every effort to imply finality.

Fenris stares at them a moment, brows knitted, and then asks simply, “What?”

“You’re not… going.”

Hawke falters, shoulders drooping slightly, and tries not to meet his gaze. ’ _There are no puppy eyes._ ’ was still the biggest lie Fenris had ever told.

“Hawke…”

Trying not to look at him becomes almost comical, Hawke glaring at a loose floorboard until Fenris reaches out and touches their arm. They look back and instantly regret it.

“Why would you..?” he asks, concerned eyes nearly tearing a hole in their heart, “I don’t understand.”

Hawke’s mind instantly shoots to Varric’s letters. The sketches of red lyrium. The corrupted templars, hunks of crystals bursting through their flesh. They swallow their panic as best they can.

“It’s not safe for you.”

“Then it is not safe for you either, Hawke.” Fenris replies sharply. He’s figured it out—part of it, anyway.

Hawke looks at him, doing their best to stay firm, but they’re just panicking now. The thought of the lyrium burned into his flesh turning red and breaking through worms its way unwillingly into their mind. They shake their head violently and rake a hand through their hair.

“It’s not the same with me.”

“Hawke—“

“A week.” they blurt finally, desperately. “Give me _one_ week. Then follow.”

“Why?”

“So I can—Maker, Fenris, please.” Hawke sighs and rubs their hand over their face now. “ _Please._ Just, just do this for me.”

Fenris’ expression softens and he reaches out, one hand cupping the back of Hawke’s neck. They peek at him and allow themselves to be pulled closer, their forehead touching to his.

“You get one week.” he says, gentle but firm in his tone, “One.”

“And you promise to wait the whole week?” they ask, hands hovering at his sides—waiting for confirmation.

Fenris sighs. “Yes.” he says, “I promise.”

Hawke’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and Fenris drapes his arms off their shoulders in return. For a moment, they simply stay like this. Close.

“Promise you’ll be there when I arrive.” Fenris says, eyes on Hawke’s. There’s the puppy eyes again. They couldn’t answer differently if they wanted to. Even though they’re not sure and he _knows_ it.

“I promise.”


End file.
